Sacred Stones
by WeLikeSum
Summary: "Seth?" The clurean knight lowered his gaze; peering over the fortresses walls. "Milord?" Seth grimaced; well aware of what his lord would hold as his next action. "Let us die bravely. As martyrs, rather than noblemen." (Re-upload. With added content, and an actual update schedule, that being Bi-Weekly)
1. Ephraim and Eirika

The irony of Fenrir and its associated tales was laughable.

The myths were intended to represent that of expectation; something those involved in the incident of Loki's pup seemed to lack knowledge of. The adolescent who came across these thoughts idly flipt past the tattered pages of a novel he knew far to well beneath the oak.

" _The wolf was tamed, threatened to be maimed, once the truth came; he set others to great pain. Once chained down, the river was famed. He bore his fangs...and caused a claret stain."_

It was an extra segment the author had shoved into his rendition in a fairly pathetic attempt to "Identify" from the others. An attempt to show his originality no doubt; yet the few who took notice to this poem used it as a source of ridicule towards the writer.  
The boy had harshly tossed the book aside; tearing it more so as it made contact with a crisp patch of soil. He pondered on those previous thoughts for a moment. He chuckled; with the pungent aroma of doubt passing with his quiet laugh. Fair enough. The boy wouldn't long on the impossible. It was a positive factor, right? Just another shadow of a figure. A passerby who strives for the epitome of their skills holds no more relevance than those aforementioned shadows. Destined for failure. Failure only caused by longing.

"That is the result of ambition." His lips tilted upwards into that of a satirical grin.

"Right Eirika?" His grin was short-lived thereafter, seeing as the smirk soon turned into a grimace of pain as an object hastily made contact with his side. "Wha-!" As if to give a simple response to the boy's knee-jerk reaction, the world felt as if to reveal the perpetrator of the newfound stinging upon his shoulder. The oak. But a branch of the oak.

"Ephraim...if you t'were ask that question with a straight face and mindset...what do you believe you would receive in a response?" The teenager chuckled at the reply he had earned.

"If a stick to my arm was in punishment to jesting? I wouldn't be surprised if you threw me off of it Eirika." He didn't bother to peer back at the figure he was conversing with. He had known purley by repetition, she had smiled.

1

"Off of that? The fall would be longer than that of Renais." The girl felt a tinge of guilt after that remark. Only which was added to once he grimaced. She needn't gaze down from her perch on the oak however. She had already known.

"Eirika?"

"Yes?"

"If I were to fall for a day; The same time span our land fell in...who would catch me?"

Harsh breath was felt upon Ephraim's neck; luring him at last to avert his attention towards the other figure, still positioned atop the branches.

"Eirika, you've been a ray of hope 'till this point...so may I ask-" The hot, rough air proceeded it's attempts to wrap itself around his spine. "Ahem, may I inquire...why you scoff at such a proposition?"

"I don't scoff at noble men."

"So what was-"

"I scoff at fools."

* * *

Dark caverns seemed to be of a commodity in current state of many's situations.

The jagged exterior of the previously mentioned landscape complemented itself with that of nothingness; a dark void in which only embers could offer combatance. And so it did. The shadows stood no chance, seemingly not even given time to prepare itself.

As if to charge forward with a glowering gaze, light shown throughout; the inferno spreading from a seemingly calming yellow in comparison to the frightening blue.

Color was treated as if an insolent child. In their eyes, it was a miracle of the heavens as the fierce flame made an attempt to lick itself at the tip of a cleuren calic; atop Ephraim's head.

"Excuse me m'lady Eirika. Did this _fool_ start a bonfire?" He positioned himself aptly, joining the young women beside himself. The remark was countered by the rarely visible distaste

shown upon Eirika's expression. He merely grinned at the women's reaction; idly waiting as if fisherman, rod, and bait at once. Would the trout clench on?

"Ephraim, although I am grateful for the dim lighting you offered...you've no right."

An index finger prodded at it's lightly plated target with haste, offering a quaint chuckle from the one who bore the iron plating. She once again gestured to the breastplate Ephraim wore, shades of metal blended throughout met in the center of the aforementioned armor; as did remembrance, as did a Griffon. "From my knowledge on the situation, I assume you hold awareness to what this sigil represents." She grimaced in what could either be anticipation for an answer, or the seemingly creeping pain of the fire's blistering heat.

"Yes, I'm certain of its meaning. How does this correlate with the question at hand?"

"The Griffon we refer to; the creature of myth which stands for what was formerly known as Renais, was painstakingly sewn within each of the Knights of Renais' armor." She stated in a serious tone.

"And yet I am no servant to the house, _Queen."_ He spat the final word with great intensity, removing the opposing royals palm from his own. "Though-" He paused; contemplating his words which were to follow. "I believe i'll still listen."

* * *

" _You_ believe such a baseless statement?" Formerly invested in such a conversation, flashes of doubt skimmed through Ephraim's mind; his interest declining as if in association with the diminishing fire.

"Indeed. Though all advances in life have come to fruition by that of mere theories; correct?" Eirika turned not only a mental, but a physical one-eighty from her original position. "Lyon may hold our answer. In verbal form at the very least." She bent over, before tossing an assemblage of luggage in the general direction of her companion.

"Fine; credit is admittedly due. Your way with words your majesty…" Ephraim nervously rubbed at the nape of his neck, paying no mind to the bounds of supplies being launched mere inches from his head. "Though I must inquire...in what feasible situation would we be offered an audience?" Eirika conceived a slim grin of sorts at the question.

"Offered? Ephraim, you of all people should know the solution."

"Tsk-tsk. I've ought to wonder now…where's a lance when you need it?" Ephraim reached forward, grasping at the air as if to mock gripping his previously mentioned spear.

"Not by virtue of action…or combat..." Eirika scolded. "But through conversation. Come."

"The Espire Villa will be our first stop." Eirika noted, handing a scroll of parchment to her companion.

"Great. I'm near overflowing with the anticipation of immediately entering _their_ territory." Ephraim left his comment hanging in the dry air; essentially a verbal eyeroll...only to be jabbed in the ribs by his superior, as she began in a satirical tone.

"Yes, oh i'd so cherish the thought of heading directly to Grado Keep, but I do believe we are lacking supplies. It's not like there was communication of this prior!" Eirika smirked, waiting.

"Understood. Southwest to Espire it is. Six miles."

"It is of utmost importance we pay mind to the location of Grado's post's, in the event we approach them at an adjacent position." Ephraim lept from a short patch of stones as he spoke, offering his companion a hand as she went down them herself; passing out the cavern once more.

"I-...Ephraim, dare you even _think_ of engaging soldiers of Grado in a direct conflict-"

"Ah, yes. You've mentioned this before Milady Eirika."


	2. Lyon

Lyon always longed to be active, veritably taking initiative in something.

And so, the pacing amongst his unkempt oaken room began, as did a copper tome's longing to be unsheathed from it's leather placement at a mauve cloaked side; much to the boy's dismay. Rustled papers positioned around his silk cot were soon to be drenched.

Upon initial inspection; one would likely assume the liquid profusely rushing down his jowls would be a worked up sweat from harsh training, war tactics, anything of the sort.

Why wouldn't they?

Evidence was given throughout generation to generation.

Royals were war mongering tyrants bent on the domination of others.

Pursuing carnage while motivated only through delusional ideologies.

Viewpoints that none of the poor souls caught in the middle could even hope to understand.

So Lyon's pacing, worrisome _sweating_ , and such, were all halted as a closed fist met the other side of his door.

"Please, enter." Lyon's response to the knocking was met with the aforementioned door now creaking open, accompanied by a standard uniform soldier clad in navy armor throughout.

"Prince Lyon, p-princess Eirika has requested to see you."

The soldier spoke hastily, in what was to be deciphered as a fit of anxiousness by his topic.

"She noted you meet beside the throne; she wants to discuss something with you."

"I see." The prince swept his hair aside, grimacing in a mix of both relief and dread towards the eventual news he'd eventually receive. Taking leave of his quarters; Lyon unsteadily passed by the newcomer of blue bearing; leading himself on to be greeted by a more veteran sight of sorts.

Castle Grado's very own walls. The splintering plaster strewn across it's interior, (that which was an abode to many creatures of the insect sort.) Paved the way for the lordling;

 _ **the way to the throne.**_

 **Hey there! Sorry for this update being so brief. I've been constantly working on this project, and figured I'd give you guys a little taste of what's next to come before the next major update! (That of which will be taking place during the fall of Renais that Eirika spoke of.)**

 **Have a good day, and see you later! -Welikesum**


	3. Renvall

The calvary ran amok once coming to near contact with its opponents in the pouring rain. The grit of Earth soon turned to that of slop, drenched by the wounds of the defending soldiers as well as the rain. Castle Renais stood alone as the sole protector of the warfield, soot, and flood. "S-sir! You've ought to see the culverin wielders! We stand no-" The respondent was soon cut short by the sound of cannon fire. A sound which was sent ringing throughout the ears of anybody close enough to see their comrade fall; now a forgotten corpse on the muk covered field.

"Tsk, our men are dropping like flies...Ephraim; what ought we do?" The commander of noble bearing approached his liege, Harshly gripping Castle Renvall's cliff-guard to his left in an act of holding in his rare loss of composure.

"..." The only suggestion the man received was a wave of thoughts he knew naught of from his lord's silence; his ginger hair serving as a contradiction of sorts to how the man felt about this response.

"Lord Ephraim….The castle is under seige, we haven't a clue of Grado's intentions or motivation, and our men are dying. I'd rather not be met by silence!"

"Seth?" The clurean knight lowered his gaze; peering over the fortresses walls.

"Milord?" Seth grimaced; well aware of what his lord would hold as his next action.

"The decisions I make affect more than my own life. Once this war is finished, I will rebuild Renais with Eirika. That is my mission. If you are to deny me of such..." Ephraim smirked.

"Then you clearly musn't join me."

The noble made haste, leaping past the wall his servant had clung to.

"Sir Ephraim-" Seth paused, contemplating his next choice words, regardless of his liege no longer being beside him. " _A thirst for battle is a path you must be wary of."_

landing within the midst of the warfield with none, save the few remaining men who had opted to fight on, and a spear; Ephraim lent his hand out to his side, beckoning a lanky-sort of soldier to his left who had been positioned near the fortress. "Orson."

"Sire?" 'Orson' left his stationary position, approaching Ephraim as he went forward.

"Order a retreat."


	4. The Village

"So this is Espire? It's quite...rustic." Eirika barely glanced at the seemingly historic villages entryway, soon finding herself within the town; Ephraim trailing.

(As was the fall of the sun.)

"Eirika, may I suggest that we find ourselves a meal?" Eirika froze; hesitantly retracting her former excitement.

" _Find?_ Ephraim. There are countless choices for meals here. I-I mean look at that!" The queen gestured to her left. A run down looking place of medium size, primarily featuring oak wood, entitled "The Greatest Catch: Grill and Bar" was what met their eyes.

"Fine. Milady, I must warn you however; that it _will_ be a necessity to hunt.

We shall grab supper, supplies, and continue." Ephraim solemnly shook his head at his lord; beginning towards the bar; Eirika in tow.

The ringing of a bell greeted the pair as they entered the establishment; the door and floor tiles attempted to creak in agreement, but were greatly overshadowed by the pure energy and noise filling the room.

Looking around, Ephraim had obtained a fair idea of the "audience" of the bar.

To the left, general seating. Quite a few of the round tables were full, though it seemed as if most hadn't exactly came for the food; but rather to catch up with one another. Families and Friends entertained the food as a second thought; laughing away.

To the right, Ephraim and Eirika were met with a sharp contrast. _The bar._

Filled to the brim a variety of interesting characters.

Now you see, Ephraim was rather fond of rum at points; though it must be noted the man his eyes laid witness to may have been _too_ much an endorser of the drink. Laughing with the overpowering scent of alcohol on his breath, he leaned towards the blonde woman adjacent to him; saying words of which earned the man a look of annoyance.

"Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. S-should we-?" Eirika paused as her companion silenced the notion with an index finger resting on her lips.

"Hush." Ephraim mentally silenced himself as well; waiting for the conversation between the two at the bar to proceed.

"You know, maybe you and I could-." The man paused; mouth agape and eyes perhaps even wider as he peered downwards.

" _Do not ever speak to me again."_ The woman turned to face away from the man, reading a tome as he dropped to the floor. A bolt of magic through his chest fell with him, as did the tone of the room.

"By gods...Ephraim, we must….Ephraim?" Eirika adjusted her worried gaze to focus back onto the bar, where lo and behold, Ephraim stood.

"Dame Selena. How do you fare?" Ephraim practically seared his eyes onto her; grinning as if an arrogant child.

"I do hate to seem rash, but I believe you _did_ just witness my recent encounter." The woman sighed; adjusting herself to meet the soldier of Renais. Gazing high and low, sizing him up. "So; who might you be?"

"E-Erkson. A mere member of Grado's mercenary troupe milady." He pursed his lips, attempting to hold a neutral expression despite his deceitful response.

"Fascinating. Dare I inquire, what business would a mercenary hold in the Espire?" She raised her brow, waiting for a response.

"Well we…" Ephraim turned to face the entryway which he came from; to be met with an empty passage. " _Gods is Eirika...did they...no…"_

"I'm so sorry madam, but you must pardon me. I-." Ephraim cringed as he was interrupted, fearing the possible response.

"That young woman earlier. It's her, no? Go. I'm sure it's far more important than simple chit-chat." Selena left a warm smile to the soldier; just as Ephraim _physically_ left the bar as a whole in turn.

Opening the door in a rather rough fashion, Ephraim was met with an even more aggressive gust of wind. "Eirika? Eirika!"


End file.
